


On the Good Ship Primrose

by LizzieBathory



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 16:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11130489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieBathory/pseuds/LizzieBathory
Summary: Hi-jinks on the high seas. Bog is the captain of the Primrose, a luxury cruise ship. With his loyal crew and the new staff he's taken on, they're ready for adventure. But is he ready for love?





	On the Good Ship Primrose

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, my first attempt at posting fan fiction before it's totally complete. Expect fluff, probably smut later and hopefully some laughs as our favourite characters work and love on the good ship Primrose.

                The Capitan of the cruise ship _Primrose_  shrugged his broad shoulders uncomfortably. New crew days always made him nervous, the fresh faces and names he would need to learn. They had to replace a third of his crew, including the house band and events coordinator. Thankfully his first mate Stephanie remained on, as well as his chief engineer Thang. He glanced over the roster of new crew on his clipboard.

                Bog King stood on the deck of the  _Primrose,_  greeting each new crew member as they came up the ramp, marking them down on the manifest. Steph stood beside him, answering crew questions politely in her gravelly voice. New and existing crew mingled on the deck, meeting the people they would be spending every day with for the next few weeks. Long tables of food and drink, Pare, his chef, had spent all yesterday preparing were set out, as well as Pare himself playing bartender. Top 40s’ Music played through the loudspeakers.

                Bog dearly wished for a cold beer or a few fingers of whiskey to calm his jumping nerves. They had been in port for just over a day, resupplying and (for some) taking a much needed shore leave. He hadn’t left the ship, instead having to accomplish ten thousand and one tasks which needed the Capitan’s attention.

                He glanced over the manifest, mentally checking the people he was missing against their jobs. Where was his event coordinator? Where was the band? Almost everyone else had already checked in.

                Steph glanced up at her boss, noting the grimace on his face and the impatient shifting of his feet.

“What’s up BK?” She asked. The revelling crew was far enough behind them and making enough noise she felt comfortable using the nickname he’d given her permission to use after they’d worked cheek-by-jowl for a year and a half.

                “Bloody events co-ordinator and bloody band are late.” He growled, tapping his pen against the clipboard in agitation.

                Steph, undaunted by his temper, glanced at her wristwatch and shrugged.

                “Final check in for crew isn’t for another hour.” She pointed out. Bog’s grunted in response. There was a small group coming up the ramp as they spoke. A slim women lead with five men of varying shapes and sizes following up the narrow ramp. The first to reach him was a perky blue-eyed blonde.

                “Hi!” She chirped. “I’m Dawn Fairweather.” Ah, Bog thought, the events coordinator.

                “Welcome aboard the Primrose, Dawn, I’m Bog King, your Capitan. This is Stephanie Woods, your first mate.” Dawn shook hands with Bog enthusiastically. He was surprised at the strength of her grip and the callouses on her palms. She didn’t look like one to do anything more strenuous than lift a cocktail. Dawn continued along to allow the rest of the group to board. Bog greeted each person, quickly realising this was the house band. Their singer was noticeably absent.

                “Mari will be here soon.” One man, a beefy fellow who’d introduced himself as Brutus the Bass player, told Bog. The remaining crew boarded. Soon it was ten minutes to the hour and Marianne Fairweather still hadn’t shown up. Steph hadn’t left his side, but he could tell she was bored and wanted to join Thang where he sat, telling stories to the rest of the pit crew.

                Bog had been watching the party. There were more like two parties happening, one where the deck crew danced and ate and laughed raucously and one where the pit crew joked and drank and occasionally broke into bawdy song. It pleased him to see everyone so lively, a happy crew was important to him and not only because a happy crew meant happy clients. The crew was a melting pot of ethnicities, their different accents blending into a kind of strange music as everyone spoke at once.

                He knew, despite his rules against crew fraternization, tonight few people would be sleeping alone. It was an unspoken understanding that, when left to their own devices, crews would hook up constantly and with multiple partners. Sometimes at the same time. With the cheap booze at the crew bar, the long hours and the boredom which came from being at sea with no Wi-Fi, it was inevitable.

                A woman appeared in front of him, her shaggy brown hair pushed back by a pair of overlarge sunglasses. Whiskey coloured eyes observed him, framed by dark lashes. Full lips were pulled into a smile, showing even white teeth below a narrow, slightly pointed nose. For a moment, Bog’s brain clicked off. Her eyes were beautiful, like amber in the sun. He must have been quiet for too long, because Steph poked him hard in the ribs with one finger. He winced and recited his rote greeting automatically.

                “Welcome aboard the Primrose, I’m Bog King, your Capitan. This is Stephanie Woods, your first mate.” Bog shook her hand, trying not to notice how soft her skin was or how her long slim fingers fit into his.

                “I’m Marianne Oberon. I’m sorry I’m late!” She said merrily, shaking Steph’s outstretched hand. So this was the singer for the band, the Lovestruck Fools. She didn’t look like how he’d imagined a lounge singer would look. She dressed like a teenager, first of all. A purple t-shirt with WTF printed on the front in rhinestones and snug jeans revealed her slim figure. Purple hi-top sneakers covered surprisingly large feet. She wore studded leather cuffs on her wrists and silver skulls dangled from her ears.

                Her face was animated as she launched into a story of her harrowing taxi ride. Her hands moved elegantly in a dancing pantomime as she spoke. Bog forced himself to double check the manifest. All of his crew members were accounted for. He gave a stiff nod to Marianne and Steph.

                “Yer the last of the crew to arrive,” He said, his voice gruff. “I best be giving my welcoming address before everyone gets too deep in their cups to remember it.” He moved off to do just that, temporarily taking over the sound system as he’d done hundreds of times before. His speech was rehearsed and the well-worn words fit comfortably in his mouth as his eyes scanned the crew’s faces.

                He could see Thang mouthing the words along with him, the small, wiry man having served as Chief engineer for as long as Bog had been Capitan. He saw Steph, standing beside him, elbow Thang in the side. The small man blushed.

                As he finished his speech, his eyes met Marianne’s again. She was standing next to Dawn, one arm around the shorter woman’s shoulders. Their posture mirrored each other and he realised they had to be related. Dawn shared Marianne’s lithe build, heart shaped face and large eyes. They were too similar to not be first cousins at least. Bog looked away first, locking his face into blank composure. It wouldn’t do to have his crew read the jump of lust he felt on his face.

                He returned the microphone to the DJ, thinking hard at himself. No inter-crew fraternization was _his_ rule and for good reason. Lust lead to other things, dangerous things like love. Another voice inside him argued that a beautiful woman like Marianne couldn’t be attracted to a crusty old sailor like him. He’d been sailing since he was a boy, on the seas professionally since manhood, leaving him whipcord thin, tanned and rough. Even two years as the _Primrose’s_ captain hadn’t smoothed his edges.

                He knew her type, he thought as he slid out of the party. She used her gorgeous face to get what she wanted and to hell with anyone else. He knew he wasn’t thinking of the woman upstairs on the deck but another woman, more beautiful and crueler. Well he didn’t have to worry about her for long. A beautiful face like that and she would be hooked up with someone before the night’s end. He was sure of it.

~~~

                Marianne loved the cruise circuit. She loved everything about it. Even the tiny, cramped bunk she now called home was wonderful because it meant she was still free. What was better, somehow the planets had aligned and she was on the same ship as her sister for the first time in years! She practically danced into her small room, her ears still ringing from the loud music on deck.

                It was still early, but Marianne needed to sleep. She had made a small feast of the food spread buffet style and had promised herself she would find who made the cream filled pastries and bribe them for the recipe.  She knew from experience good food would be hard to find once they were on the open ocean. Uncomfortably full, it was the first real meal she’d had in days, Marianne had called it an early night and nipped out, leaving Dawn chatting with a massage therapist, a handsome, tall fellow named Daryl.

                Her thoughts jumped to the tall captain, Bog King. Her cheeks flushed as she thought about how his broad shoulders and chest filled out his white captain’s shirt, nipping down to a slim waist. It wasn’t often she met a man who towered over her, but he had to be at least six and a half feet tall, most of it leg. His icy blue eyes had been surprisingly expressive in his tanned face. And what a face! Not classically handsome, but there was something sexy about the deep creases which bracketed his mouth, something roguish about the sharp cut of his jaw and jutting cheekbones.

                Marianne felt herself heating up. Oh no. She wasn’t going to do this again. After Roland, she’d promised herself a two things. Never fall in love again and never date a captain. She was a free bird and if she felt an itch, she could go ashore and find some pretty fellow to scratch it. If she was at sea, she could scratch it herself. She didn’t want to embroil herself in the crew drama any more than necessary.

                In her years entertaining on cruise ships she’d seen men move their girlfriend out of their cabin when their wives visit, then move them back in after their spouse in on shore. One woman she’d known, after her boyfriend’s contract had ended a month before hers, had hooked up with one of the cooks before her boyfriend’s plane had landed. Marianne knew she could never do anything like that. Her heart was too soft, which was why she was on a romantic hiatus.

                It took her only a few minutes to unpack, stowing her clothing and toiletries in the small drawers. Her “work” dresses she hung in front of her bed, like a makeshift curtain made of sequins. She had been doubly lucky to get her sister as her roommate. The cramped quarters would be awkward no matter what, but it was less so when she shared them with Dawn. She changed into her pajamas, a pair of silky boxer shorts printed with winking emojis and an oversized t-shirt and went to bed. She was asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.


End file.
